


Treatment of Silence

by hydraspuppet



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2095809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydraspuppet/pseuds/hydraspuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve didn't expect Bucky to come home and be completely fine. He did however expect him to respond when Steve asked him a question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treatment of Silence

****

Steve Rogers walked into his dark apartment, kicking off his shoes at the door and not bothering to turn on a light. He yawned widely, the bag holding his uniform, boots and all, and a dozen books from the last seven decades, was beginning to feel heavy as he shut the door behind him. He pulled his phone out of his sweatpants pocket and clicked the side. 10PM.

 

He had spent the day at an orphanage a few cities over, dressed as Captain America. He meant to only spend a few hours there, but the kids had been so sweet. They even offered up their own small shield replicas once they realized that Steve had not brought his; Steve couldn't just say no when they asked him to stay longer.

 

He walked to his room, feet dragging across the hardwood as he tried not to trip in the dark. He stood in the doorway to his bedroom and tossed his duffel bag onto the bed with a thump, before turning to exit once more.

 

"Humph" The noise was muffled and quiet, but it registered with Steve enough for him to turn back into the room. He moved slowly towards the bed, bent down to reach for some sort of weapon. He grabbed on to the first item he felt and flicked on the light.

 

"Bucky?" He asked as squinting eyes met his in the light. Bucky rolled over so he was facing away from him. Steve looked at what mystery weapon he had grabbed to defend himself.

 

An old sneaker. Menacing.

 

He set down the deadly shoe and did the single most idiotic thing he could do. He crawled into the bed next to him. His eyes trailed down the back off Bucky's head, noting his long, choppy hair. His gaze moved to his back, and an aching filled his heart as he saw all of the faded scars that were littered there. He didn't have any of those before Hydra. As Steve pulled up the covers to get under, he noticed that Bucky was wearing a pair of pajama pants. Just barely smiling to himself, Steve reached up and turned off the light.

 

They sat in the dark silence for a few moments, decades of words unsaid clinging to the air like a choking humidity. Steve felt like he was being strangled. In fact, he had been strangled almost to death before. He preferred that feeling to this one.

 

"Bucky, I-" Steve was cut off by Bucky shifting backwards until his back was against Steve's chest. Steve didn't resume his talking, but instead wrapped one arm around Bucky instinctively. Bucky tensed underneath him and Steve realized that he probably hadn't meant to be this close to him. For a few agonizing moments, Steve considered removing his arm, but Bucky relaxed, a small sigh escaping his lips.

 

This wasn’t the first time they had been in this position by a long shot, but even still, Steve was surprised they fell into it so quickly after so long.

 

_Back before anything changed, before Steve's mom died, and long before Bucky enlisted, Steve was sick all of the time. Bucky would come over everyday, some days with soup, or a newspaper, other days with flowers for Steve's mom._

_"James Buchanan Barnes, you are the sweetest boy." His mom would say an expression of such happiness on her face that Steve wished she had been blessed with Bucky as a son instead of him. Bucky could work, play football, cur firewood, do the things sons were supposed to do._

_All of the things Steve couldn't do._

_Some days, Bucky would come over with a sullen expression because he "just couldn't afford it this week, sorry Mrs. Rogers." Steve knew those days were the days he almost got caught for stealing and couldn't risk going to jail._

_Some nights, Bucky would crawl into bed with a coughing and wheezing Steve. Some nights turned into most nights as winter came on strong, along with new sicknesses for Steve and less flowers for his mom. During the other seasons, Bucky would let Steve be the big spoon, but not during the winter. No, during the winter Bucky would pull him close to his chest, covering him in warmth, his arms wrapped tightly around Steve's small body._

_"Goodnight Stevie," he would murmur his breath hot against the back of Steve's head. That didn't change much as they got older._

_What did change was how Steve felt about him. Most nights he would run through the mantra in his head._

_"He doesn't like me like that. He doesn’t. He's dating Sue, or Mary Catherine, or whoever it is this week. He's just being a friend, Steve."_

_Most nights, however, that didn't work._

_Most nights, Steve would pretend they were a couple and snuggle just a little bit closer, imagining they were in a time when that would be okay. Most nights, Steve would wait until Bucky was asleep, his fluttery breaths tickling Steve's neck, and he would whisper "I love you, James Buchanan Barnes."_

_And the nights where Steve could swear he heard that familiar voice whisper "I love you too," well, Steve convinced himself he was imagining those nights_.

 

Steve didn't remember falling asleep that night. All he remembered was a strong sense of relief as he drank in Bucky's scent.

 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

When he woke up in the morning, his first coherent thought was that his arms felt strangely empty. His eyes shot open, immediately scanning the room.

 

 _Oh God_ , Steve thought, shoving the covers from his body roughly as he scrambled out of bed _, what if he left again?_

 

"Bucky?" Steve called out, stepping into the hallways. Negative thoughts swarmed Steve’s head.

 

_I’ve just gotten him back and now he's gone again and-_

 

His thought process was cut off abruptly at the sight of Bucky sitting on the couch cross legged, a bowl of cereal in his lap.

 

"Hey Buck..." Steve sighed, just loud enough for him to hear. Bucky looked up at him, but didn't say a word, just looked at him. Steve moved to sit next to him on the couch. He looked at the TV, noting that he had chosen to watch Golden Girls of all things.

 

"You know you can change it, right?" He said after realizing that this was the channel he had been watching a few days ago. Bucky just looked at him, head tilted slightly.

 

"Not talking?" Steve asked, his voice lined with an edge of worry. Bucky just turned his attention back to the television. Steve stood, grabbing the mostly empty bowl of soggy cereal out of his hands. He deposited it in the sink.

 

After a few hours and a Golden Girls mini marathon, Steve stood and pulled Bucky to his feet. Bucky looked at him blankly, so Steve pulled him towards his room. He followed along without a word, standing in the doorway when Steve released his hand. Steve rummaged through his drawer, and pulled out a change of clothes and a sweatshirt, walking back to Bucky.

 

"Do you remember anything?" Steve asked, setting the clothes in Bucky’s arms. Bucky looked at him, a completely blank expression replaced by slightly furrowed eyebrows and a hint of pain.

 

"That's what I thought. Go take a shower." Steve said, pushing him lightly out of the doorway and towards the bathroom. He shut the door, leaning on it for a moment. He had to get his Bucky back, or at least a Bucky who would talk to him. The door began to open behind him, and Steve shot forward, turning towards it.

 

"Is there a problem?" Steve asked quietly. He didn't notice at first that Bucky was completely naked, but when he did, he turned bright red. Bucky watched him with a curious expression as Steve stammered out "Towel. You need a towel. Under the sink."

 

Bucky nodded slightly, turning to grab one. Steve turned back, shutting the door again and heading back to his bedroom. He pulled out a change of clothes and changed quickly. He didn't want to waste any time showering, not when Bucky was here.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Bucky immerged when Steve was sitting at the table, sketching. He stood immediately, grabbing his keys immediately.

 

"You ready?" Steve asked, not really expecting a response.

 

He didn't get one.

 

He grabbed Bucky's hand, his metal one, gently gripping it as he pulled him out of the apartment and down the stairs out to Steve's car. Steve looked back at him as they walked to his car, and Bucky's face was still blank, but his eyes were still trained on where his and Steve's hands met. Steve released his hand quickly as they reached the car. He pulled himself into the driver's seat, starting the car as Bucky got in.

 

They drove for a few hours, Steve telling him small anecdotes about their lives as they did. His expression didn't change, a blank canvas in the face of memories Steve had hoped would wake something within him. He didn't mention some small things, though he knew he should've. Part of him hoped that if he didn't, and Bucky said something about them later, he would know he was really remembering.

 

He didn't mention the winter nights they spent trying to keep warm, or how Bucky used to call him Stevie, or when he would tuck a flower from the bouquet behind Steve's ear, and when Steve laughed Bucky would look down and mumble something about girl's liking guys who were sensitive and liked flowers and things.

 

He especially didn’t mention how all of these things had made Steve's heart flutter.

 

Steve finally pulled to a stop in front of an abandoned building in New York, and a flicker of recognition flew over Bucky's face.

 

"We shared an apartment here." Steve explained, opening his door to get out. He walked over to Bucky’s side, opening the door and offering his hand. Bucky stared at it for a moment before taking it, turning his attention back to the building. Steve lead him up through it, until the spot where there apartment would’ve been. They stood in the middle of the dusty rooms, memories flying around Steve with the clouds of dust. They stood there for ages, Steve gripping Bucky's hand tightly as he told him countless stories about their time in this place.

 

He talked until his throat ran dry, and then he talked some more. He talked until the stories began to feel like they were slitting his throat on the way up before escaping past his lips. He talked until Bucky's empty expression broke him, and his tears began to blind him more than his sadness already had. He talked until the words felt too heavy on his tongue, and he couldn't make his voice audible anymore.

 

He talked until he couldn't, and then he just simply released Bucky’s hand and turned, walking out of the building with his hands shoved in his pockets without a word.

 

Maybe Bucky had the right idea. Maybe talking wasn't such a good thing.

 ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

 

"Hey Bucky." Steve said, a day later when he came in from a meeting with Fury to find Bucky at the table, a book open in front of him. Bucky looked up at him but didn't say anything.

"What are you reading?" He asked, setting his bag down on the table and picking up the book. _Harry Potter and the Sorcerers_ _Stone_ was printed on the spine, and Steve smiled a bit.

 

"You always did like magic." Steve said, moving into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water

.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

 

"Hey Bucky, " Steve said, crawling into bed next to him. Bucky had been with him for two weeks, and Steve always said those same two words. He never get a response, just a blank look, but he still did it, each time hoping for a "hey Stevie" or even a smile in return. Two weeks, and Steve had grown accustomed to the blank looks, barely ever changing. Having Bucky in front of him was enough, it always had been, and it always would be.

 

He faced Bucky in the bed, faces just inches from each other. Bucky reached one hand up to Steve's face, resting on his cheek. Steve moved slightly into the touch, and Bucky’s expression turned to curiosity. His fingers traced over Steve's jaw, up to his cheekbones, going all the way up his hair before trailing back down to his lower lip. Suddenly, their faces were much closer, and Bucky’s lips were locking with Steve's. Steve made a small startled noise before gently pushing Bucky off of him. Bucky looked almost hurt.

 

"We weren't.... Well you.... you didn't like me like that, it wasn’t like that." Steve somehow managed the words. Bucky shook his head just slightly enough for Steve to notice, before his lips met Steve’s once more. Steve knew he should push him away again, that he was being selfish and probably taking advantage of his friend, but he couldn't help melting into the kiss. His eyes closed as Bucky’s hand moved to thread through his hair, his head tilting slightly. Bucky's mouth opened slightly, and Steve reciprocated the position.

 

Neither of them pushed any further than that, and after a few minutes they pulled away from each other, slightly out of breath. The silence was comfortable this time, as they stared at each other in the dark. Bucky wiggled forward, until his head was resting on Steve's chest, and Steve wrapped his arms around him, wishing he could shelter him from the darkness in his mind.

 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

 

"Hey Bucky!" Steve yawned, shuffling out of his room early one morning. The half smile he was met with when he looked up was disarming. He looked so much like the Bucky he had known, more than he had since he'd been there.

 

Bucky grabbed a mug off of the table and extended it towards Steve. He grabbed it, and looked down with a smile. "

 

You made coffee." Steve said, taking a sip. It was surprisingly really good. Bucky sucked at making coffee the last time they lived together. "Thank you." He said, walking forward and planting a gentle kiss to the top of Bucky's head.

 

Ever since that night four days ago, there had been small displays of affection on both sides. Bucky leaning into Steve on the couch, Steve putting his arm around Bucky, Bucky grabbing Steve's hand when they went out, little things that made life feel more normal.

 

Over the next few days, Bucky seemed to be more Bucky. He would give Steve small, crooked smiles sometimes, or nudge Steve whenever he did something stupid, just like he used to.

 

The biggest thing had been the morning he woke up to find his sketchbook open on the table to a sketch of Steve and Bucky that Steve had finished a few nights before. There was a blue colored pencil on the table next to it, and a small blue flower had been drawn in, tucked over Steve's ear. It took Steve a few hours to realize what that meant.

 

 

Things were good for once, which of course meant they couldn’t stay that way.

 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

 

"Hey Bucky..." Steve said his voice anxious and upset as he knelt in front of Bucky, who was sat on the couch with a blank expression. Bucky didn't look at him, kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall.

 

"Are you hungry?" He asked quietly, his voice wavering slightly. Bucky blinked slowly. "Thirsty?" He tried, his sadness beginning to take on an edge of anger.

 

He hadn't seen Bucky eat or drink anything all day. He just sat there, eyes fixed on the wall, no matter what Steve did to try and get him to respond.

 

Steve stood, his jaw clenching. "God damn it, why can't you just tell me what's wrong?!" He yelled, and he saw Bucky cringe. Steve knew he wasn’t actually angry; he was sad and scared, but boy did it feel like anger.

 

"Just say something, anything." Steve pleaded, his voice unchanging as he grabbed Bucky by the shirt and turned him to look at him. Bucky’s eyes fell to the ground.

 

"Please..." Steve whispered, falling to his knees. He released Bucky's shirt, and buried his face in his hands.

 

"I'm sorry Buck. I really am." Steve said softly after an eternity of silence. "I'm sorry I yelled, I’m sorry I can't help you, I'm sorry this happened to you, I’m so sorry. It's my fault, and I am so sorry." Bucky didn't respond, but when Steve looked up, he turned his gaze back to the wall. Steve stood slowly, his legs shaky.

 

"You don't have to talk, Buck. You never have to talk again if you don't want to." Steve mumbled, turning and walking back to his bedroom.

 

He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, his head was nestled into Bucky’s neck, his arms clutching at Bucky's shirt. He felt Bucky’s arms wrapped around his back, the cool metal of his hand resting on his lower back under his shirt. Their legs were entwined, and Steve realized that this meant Bucky actually moved from the couch. "I'm sorry." He breathed into Bucky’s neck, and he felt Bucky’s arms tighten slightly.

 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

 

"Hey Bucky." Steve said, planting a light kiss to Bucky’s cheek as he sat next to him on the couch.

 

 _Two months today_ , Steve thought, _I’ve had Bucky back for two months._

 

Bucky continues to look straight ahead as Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, but leaned slightly into Steve's side. Steve had begun to recognize the difference between days where Bucky was trapped in how own mind, and days like this.

 

Days where he didn't want to do anything except just be with Steve.

 

Steve opened up his book, _Game of Thrones_ , one that Natasha had recommended. She told him not to let Tony see his copy, as he might throw it out a window. Tony hadn't understood, but now that he was well through it, he understood. In the book, the House Stark motto was "Winter is Coming."

 

Steve couldn't imagine how often Tony heard that joke. Steve dropped his book as he heard a familiar voice.

He looked at Bucky, who was still looking forward but had a stupid smile on his face.

 

"Hey Stevie."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terribly sorry if you thought either of them were horribly out of character! 
> 
> It's my first time writing Steve/Bucky, so I hope I did an okay job ^-^


End file.
